


The Early Afternoon Suppertime of the Dead

by NancyBrown



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Gen, Horror, Zombie Apocalypse, goody bag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:00:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2375513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/pseuds/NancyBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prison was designed to keep them in. It became their last defense to keep <i>them</i> out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Early Afternoon Suppertime of the Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesleepingsatellite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesleepingsatellite/gifts).



> Written for abluegirl's goody bag in TrickorTreatEx 2014.

The prison was designed to keep them in. It became their last defense to keep _them_ out. Then the locks failed.

Even now, the rivalries and petty wars between the factions of the prison are in play. The Barrio is hoarding the food in their hiding places. The Suburbs have gone too quiet, and no one is going to investigate why.

Poussey wishes she had a gun, or a club. Anything. Anything can be a weapon, they've been told and shown. She's not violent. She doesn't want to have to kill someone she used to know.

The footsteps are slow, stumbling. She risks a glance out from the small barricade she and Taystee have managed to build in the library. Pennsatucky stares at her through the dark opening, eyes dead, mouth slavering for her brains.

Poussey flings herself back, hiding in the stacks of the books.

"Come on out, girl," Pennsatucky says in her horrible twang. "You like getting eaten. I'll eat you real good."

Poussey scrambles back further until she reaches Taystee's side. Taystee doesn't look so good, either. She's been favoring her right leg. As Poussey watches, dry-mouthed, Taystee pulls up the hem of her orange pant leg, revealing the bloody mess where she was bitten.

"You're going to be fine," Poussey says. "You're going to be **fine**." Her voice cracks on the last word. She's shaking too hard to even see straight now.

"Poussey," Taystee says. Her voice has dropped, and her eyes, oh God, her eyes are going dim.

"Taystee, don't." Now she's backing away from her friend, too, away from the zombies at the door and the zombie she's barricaded in here with her. She needs a gun, if only to stick into her own mouth.

"It'll only hurt for a minute," Tastee says, and she leaps.

It's a lie.


End file.
